Day Twelve--Going back to Israel and Kibbutz Lotan--Jan. 4 , 2011

Who knows what day it is?

On the drive from Petra to the border

Mohammad showed up at 10:00 a.m. but said the car was coming in a few minutes.  It took a bit for him to relate to me that he was not driving me to the border but that he had arranged for someone else to do it because his car was busy.   

“Not a problem, he said, another driver will take you”

Mohammad and Admed have some conversation and later  Admed told me that they were discussing his new car.  He’d just gotten the car, although it wasn’t a “new” car, it was new to him and he was very proud of it.

I got in the car with Ahmed.  “Medaberet Hebret (do you speak Hebrew)” he asked me. 

“No” I responded.

“Do you?,” I asked.

“Yes.  I work in Israel sometimes doing construction so I speak Hebrew.  There is no work right now so I’m driving the taxi.”

“Is it better to work in Israel?,” I asked.

“Yes, a little,” he said.

Ahmed, my taxi driver

He was another interesting character.  Ahmed lives in Aqaba is one of 8 siblings, is married with two children and has a girlfriend who he’s had for 10 years.  O.K. so my western feminist side just doesn’t get that they think it’s o.k. but it seems to be the way here.

The drive to the border took about 2 hours.  When we arrived I asked if I could take his photo.  I’m trying to document the people I meet along the way.

Getting through the Jordanian side was fairly easy.  The first office I went to said I needed 8 JD but I only had 2 so I needed to go to the “change” office.  Dragging my bags I strolled over to the “change” office got my 6 JD then walked back to this first office they stamped my passport and told me to go.  I walked to the gate, showed my passport again and got onto the “no man’s land path” and crossed to Israeli side.

 I showed my passport again and the questioning began.  Not Shalom welcome but 1st why was I wearing sunglasses - really- it was 12:30 and the sun was bright.

“Please take your glasses off”

“Sure”.

They checked my passport and said go.

So I started to walk when about 10 feet in a girl came out of security and said “you must come this way.”

“sorry, no one said--

“Oh, I’m waiting for you.”

Fine.

So I went into security and I needed to put all my bags through the machines.  She didn’t like something in my suitcase so took it out of the machine and opened it up.  

Then she asked me, “did you pack your suitcase? has anyone given you anything to carry? has my bag been with me the entire time?”

Yes, Yes Yes.

While I was in the security room I overheard them questioning a young American guy. 

“What is the name of your friend in Ramallah?”

“Ahmed, “ he replied

“What is his last name”, they asked

“he replied something”

“What is his phone number”

“I don’t know I don’t have my phone with me so I can’t tell you.”

“Where is your phone”

He’d left it somewhere.

“What is his email”

“I don’t know that either”

o.k. so maybe this guy was a bit more suspect than I was.  Everyone has a story.  I tell you it’s not easy going through the borders here.  I understand there are many security issues and we/I can be a bit blase about them and am not sure what my feelings are.  In some ways the Israelis are very good at security and there is more consistency then in the states.  In America we don’t have enough security, but the bigger problem, I think, is our huge lack of consistency.  Is it that we are so much bigger?  Hard to say.  Israeli’s definetly profile and may have a better handle  on knowing who is lieing and who is not.  It’s a complicated world we live in and especially in the middle east.

I got through security and they gave me a security paper that I was suppose to give to someone, who that someone was was not clear, until I hear a voice coming from behind a window.  

“Over here,”

“oh”  I handed over my passport yet again, it was stamped and I was told to go.

I started to walk toward the gate and a taxi driver came up to me and asked if I needed a ride to town.  Not knowing if this was o.k. or not, I walked to the gate and asked if it was o.k that I take the taxi.

Yes, it’s o.k.

The taxi driver said the cost would be by meter for the ride to the Shalom center.

I had been told by Kibbutz Lotan that I could take the “regional” bus for 17 sheckles that leaves @ 1:45 in front of the Shalom Center.  

It was a short taxi ride, only 25 sheckles and I arrived close to 1:00 p.m.  I went to the bus stop and asked the people there if it was the right place for the Kibbutz bus.

A very nice man who didn’t speak much English was trying to tell me that yes this was the place and the bus would come at 2:00 p.m.

I decided I would get something to eat since I had some time.  There was a cafe just down the steps so I went to sit there.

I wasn’t really hungry but had I known what I was in for at the kibbutz I would have really eaten a meal. However, I ordered a small bowl of cucumber and tomato salad with a side of olives.

I sat for a bit, enjoyed the “free” wireless internet then realized I needed more $$.  This meant finding an ATM and taking everything with me. 

When I asked the waitress if she knew where an ATM was, she said no. I think she didn’t understand the “ATM”.  I have no idea what they call their “cash” machine.  Anyway, I turned to look across the street and saw there was one.  I ventured across the street and got my cash then went back to the bus stop.  I wanted to be sure I was there by 1:45 since the woman from the kibbutz said that was the time.  Better early than late.

While I was sitting at the bus stop I met a nice English couple who had retired to Eilat.  They told me Hebrew was too difficult for them and after 5 years of living in Eilat really hadn’t learned the language.  They stayed with those who spoke English.

I was going to Kibbutz Lotan on Emily’s recommendation.  She thought I would enjoy visiting it because of it’s good environmental ideology.  

the kibbutz bus

At 1:45 the “regional large Mercedes luxury kibbutz bus” showed up.  I asked if it was going to Kibbutz Lotan and he said yes.

The driver opened the bottom luggage compartment for my suitcase and on I went.

Just when I thought everything was going smoothly, the driver stops at what turns out to be the “regional kibbutz” school and tells me I need to get out and wait for the “Lotan” bus--really?

So here I am at the regional Arava kibbutzim school and it’s like the central bus station.  There are maybe 10 different queues and I don’t read hebrew so have no idea which line I should be in.  The Israeli’s are very good at pointing in a direction but not being exact.

I must have asked 3 times and moved my stuff to 2 different stations before I was assured it was the “Lotan” bus.

I really wanted to take photos but felt really strange doing so.

I clearly was the “outsider” and certainly didn’t need to bring more attention to myself.  Not only that I had no idea when the bus would come.

Finally a bus came to the section I was standing in.  I asked the driver if he was going to “Lotan” and he said yes.  A man who had been standing there, I guess he is a teacher, took my suitcase and put it under the bus.

It was nearly 3:30 when I arrived at the Kibbutz.  Getting from place to place is part of the journey but takes lots of time.

I got myself over to the Ecotourism office, to register for my stay.  I was greeted by Merav and Daphna.  

My room

Merav walked me to my room, #18, a rather spartan room.  I wasn’t expecting that much, but they are charging $75.00 a night for the room and food and it was just really funky. 

She also  showed me the water tap that I could use for drinking water.  The normal tap was not to be used for drinking.  Funny, the tap for the drinking water wasn’t even over the sink, so that when you turned the water on it went all over the counter.  You had to be careful to hold some container under it before turning it on.  She told me there would be a tour around the eco center and mud houses at 9:30 a.m. the next morning, that dinner started at 6:00 p.m. and that the dining hall would be closed the next night.  REALLY.  You have paying guests and you CLOSE the dining hall.  

“What am I suppose to do for dinner?” I asked.

“Oh no problem, we will bring you a tray.” REALLY

Was I in the hospital, a tray.  What was I going to do?  I could hardly believe this.  Maybe I’m more of a princess than I had thought.  

One of the things I had read about Lotan besides it’s good environmental ideology,  was that they had “watsu” massage.  I told Merav that I wanted to have one.  She made an arrangement for me to have one at 5:00 that afternoon.

I had a little time so I walked over to the eco center and discovered the Tea House was open.  I went in and found an American woman who was running the place and we chatted for a bit.  She had moved to the kibbutz only a year ago with her husband and two children from New Jersey.  She wasn’t 100% convinced it was the right decision but they were trying it.

At 5:00 p.m. I was picked up by a woman who I thought was giving me the Watsu, but it turned out she was just escorting me to the Watsu pool.  Eli was the person who gave me the Watsu.  It was very relaxing.  If you’ve never had Watsu, it combines elements of massage, joint mobilization, shiatsu, muscle stretching and dance. The receiver is continuously supported while being floated, cradled, rocked and stretched. 

I highly recommend it.

After my watsu, I showered and changed for dinner.  Emily’s friend Ayla, who is living on this kibbutz came and got me for dinner.  I sat with Ayla, Jonathan, another of Emily’s friends from her program, and several other kids.  They told me what there jobs were on the kibbutz; working with the cows, in the garden, in the kitchen.  There was one boy from El Salvador, one from Brazil, one from Korea and a few other Americans.

There was another group of students who were on a program specifically working in the environmental section.

the dining hall

The food at dinner wasn’t so good.  A bit disappointing considering they have incredible gardens.  I was expecting more I guess.  

After dinner the entertainment was to get your computer and find some place to get on the internet.  There was one of the shelters that had internet but when we went there it was full of people who were watching a movie.  The other option was outside the “tourist” registration office.  Yep, sitting outside just to get on the internet.

Spartan.

Oh well, part of the journey.